Sympathy for the Devil
by Daichu
Summary: All too soon after the incident that burned down the Opera Populaire, the Phantom of the Opera reappears.
1. Chapter 1

Christine burst into the room, devastated tears running down her face. "Raoul, you have to stop them!"

With a sigh, Raoul turned to face her, face set into a grim expression. He had clung onto the vain hope that his wife wouldn't hear the news, that the past would stay behind them where it belonged. Of course, how wouldn't she find out? She was probably one of the first people to be told that her one time stalker, the infamous Phantom of the Opera had been captured by the police and sentenced to death for his crimes.

"There's nothing I can do," he says simply. It's not a lie. While he could direct the police in pursuit of a criminal, it would take a strong case to convince them to set one free.

"There must be-"

"Nor would I, even if there was." She gasps softly at this, looking shocked, and Raoul looks away from her. "You know what he's done, Christine. I don't mind that he escaped, and if he was never seen again, that would have been fine with me. But he's in the hands of the law now, and he's going to pay for his crimes." He doesn't want to be cruel to her, really, but he knows how she feels about him, even after all they went through while he was a relentless shadow in her mind. She'll beg him to do something, _anything_ to save the man she should hate but can't, and Raoul will either crumble helplessly before her, find a way, and release the man who tried to kill him, or crumble helplessly, fail to find a way, and have to suffer with Christine through her anguish. He's not sure which would be the more unbearable outcome.

He risks a glance at her. Tears are still dripping slowly down her pale face despite her eyes being clenched shut, lip trembling as her hands grip the fabric of her dress. Raoul moves his gaze to the ceiling and folds his arms, his hand tightening around his elbow as he resists the urge to wrap them around Christine instead. If she's going to make a sensible choice, he can't coddle her. After a moment of silence, Christine turns away, moving towards a chair. She sat, head bowed, fingers worrying at her skirt still. Before he can stop himself, Raoul follows her and kneels at her feet, taking her hands in his to still them. His thumb starts running over her knuckles, and he watches them move to avoid looking into her eyes. "This is for the best. Now we'll know that it's really over, that he'll never come back-"

"I know." Raoul's head jerks up, surprised to hear Christine agree. Her sad eyes meet his, and she tries to put on a brave face. Her success is minimal. "I know I should be glad he's been found, and that he's going to..." Her face crumples again, and she pulls one of her hands free to clasp his. "I just can't bear the thought of him being... It's horrible, Raoul, I- I- I don't want him to die, Raoul!"

Those pleading eyes pin him until he blinks and breaks the spell. Raoul tugs his hand free and abruptly gets to his feet. He doesn't see the hurt cross her face, though he can sense it as he turns and heads for the door. His step falters, and he half-turns back to her. Christine, seeing reluctant and anxious acceptance instead of rejection in her husband's face, slowly breaks into a weak and watery smile.

"Thank you, my love."

* * *

"Monsieur Vicomte, are you _really_ suggesting that we let that monster go?" The head of police stared in disbelief from under bushy eyebrows.

"Of course not. I was merely inquiring about what other options there may be considering his sentencing." Raoul keeps his expression neutral and tries not to feel like a fool. "Perhaps you could just keep him imprisoned?"

"But why? I thought you of all people would be glad to see him hang."

It takes a fair bit of restraint not to respond "I would," but that would end their discussion here and now. A part of him wonders why he shouldn't just leave now and tell Christine he tried, but at the thought of Christine in tears again, he resolves that if he fails, he's going to be able to honestly tell her he did his best. "Can his sentencing be changed to life imprisonment or not?"

The head of police leans back and drums his fingers on the desk. "Perhaps. You'll probably have to _convince_ the judge to change his ruling." The emphasis on 'convince' implied that it wouldn't be so much convincing as greasing his palms. "Then I suppose it's just a matter of shipping him off to Australia."

Well, it's something. "Thank you, monsieur. I'll speak with the judge soon."

* * *

"Australia?"

Raoul wasn't expecting her to be happy about the idea, but he wished she'd stop looking at him like that. It made him feel guilty that he wasn't giving an answer she wanted, and that frustrated him because there couldn't possibly be a satisfactory solution to this problem.

"His life will be spared. What more can we ask for?"

Christine flounders a little before answering. "Can't he stay here in Paris?"

* * *

"What, keep him in my prison? Surely you're joking, Vicomte."

Raoul can feel a headache coming on. "This is hardly a joking matter, monsieur."

"You expect me to house and feed the man 'til the end of his days? You ask too much."

"I'll pay for his board-"

"Vicomte, this is _not_ a hotel! The answer is no."

* * *

"It's no use, Christine. Either he dies here, or he lives in a prison in Australia." Raoul's voice is raw with frustration. The back and forth has worn his nerves down and his patience has worn thin. Even so, he grimaces when she flinches at the harsh words. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and calm himself.

"I'm sorry, Christine," he murmurs while reaching for her and pulling her against him. "Those are our only options."

Accepting his embrace, Christine wraps her arms around his waist and leans against him, resting her head against his shoulder. He holds her gently, letting her consider the decision. They stay there for a few moments, until Christine raises her head.

"Raoul... He can't stay here because the police won't keep him?"

"That's right."

She purses her lips, considering an idea. "What if he didn't stay in prison?"

"We can't let him go free," Raoul answers firmly.

"I know, I know... but... what if we keep him somewhere else?"

"Where? There is one place to keep criminals, and that's the prison-"

"We could build somewhere to keep him. Somewhere where he can live and-"

"Christine, we don't have that kind of time. It will take months to build a prison for him. We have a few days." Raoul doesn't know whether the sick feeling is from extinguishing the growing hope in her eyes or from the fact that she's trying so hard to save that fiend. Her brow furrows as she chases after the idea.

"We could keep him here."

Raoul is speechless for a moment, gaping at the outrageous suggestion. When he does answer, he struggles to get the words out. "Absolutely not."

"I know it's a risky plan-"

"It's an _insane_ plan!" It bursts out before Raoul can stop himself, and he plunges on without taking it back. "I have no means of keeping him locked up, even if I did allow him into our home."

"Maybe if I could speak to him-"

"And he is not coming anywhere near you."

Christine stares pleadingly at him. "Please, Raoul, this is the only way."

Raoul shakes his head. "How can you ask me to do this? Christine, the last time we used you to get to him, you begged me not to, and he took you away from me. I am not about to make that mistake again."

Her hands come up to cup his cheeks, holding him still. "This is different, Raoul. He let me go. He let _us_ go." One of Raoul's hands covers one of hers, his face leaning into her palm.

"How can you trust him?"

Christine smiles softly. "I trust _you_. I know you'll keep me safe."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hate that there's no real way to respond to people in a public way, so I guess I'll do it here.**

**Ace: Thanks for reviewing, but I feel a little bad about it. The title was a friend's idea, and neither of us had any idea it was a Rolling Stones song. As for the possibility of an E/M fic, I'm afraid that's a negative too. She'll probably show up at some point, but I just don't think of her and Erik working out that way. Thirdly... sorry I took so long. Real life happened suddenly and I had a lot less time than I'm used to having.**

The Phantom's cell is on the first floor with other prisoners expecting a short stay in the jail. As Raoul follows the officers, he glances at the passing inmates in various positions: sitting on the floor, standing and looking out from the bars, curled up on the straw pallets. He doesn't have long to stare, for they reach their destination within minutes. The figure in this cell is sitting against the wall, arms resting on his knees, glaring at the opposite wall. He makes no movement to suggest that he is aware of the company outside his cell.

One of the guards opens the door, and Raoul walks in. He places himself deliberately in the line of the Phantom's hard stare and waits. It takes a moment, but the glare finally flicks up from the wall to the vicomte's face, eyes piercing from behind dirty, stringy gray hair. Raoul returns the stare unflinchingly, and takes a breath to say something... before realizing he doesn't know what to call the man. As far as he knows, the Phantom has no name, he is not, nor was he ever, an Angel, and Phantom and Opera Ghost were inappropriate with no opera to haunt. Still, for lack of an alternative-

"O.G." Raoul waits for a response.

"Vicomte." The Phantom's voice is hoarse. He probably hasn't used it much as of late. There's no more after that, so Raoul continues, wondering how much the disfigured man knew about Raoul's bartering over his fate.

"Until another alternative is found, you will be kept in my house-"

"No." The interruption is quiet, but sharp, and it stops Raoul right in his tracks. The glare drops down to the wall again. "Keep your pity."

"This isn't pity. I have no pity for someone like you," Raoul responds icily.

The Phantom snorts derisively. "What _do_ you call this, then?" He gives Raoul a moment to fail to come up with an answer before continuing. "Whatever you decide to call it, I don't want it."

Raoul hadn't considered the possibility that his efforts would go to waste here. Actually, he hadn't really thought much of the moment when he would see the Phantom again. He'd planned for where to put him and how to keep him contained, but Raoul didn't think about what to say to the other man until he was on his way to the jail.

Later, he would be kicking himself for having let this final excuse to let the Phantom die pass him by.

"I don't care what you want. The past couple of days have been nothing but trouble for me, and it's all because of you. You are coming-"

"Why, then?" The Phantom cut in, looking back up to the Vicomte's face. Raoul's expression paired with a poignant silence must have been enough for the other man to draw the obvious conclusion. A flicker of emotion crossed the Phantom's face. Hope? Raoul wasn't sure, but it made his fists clench all the same. "How is Christine?"

"That is none of your business," Raoul snapped. "As far as you will be concerned, my _wife_ will be in another country altogether." The Phantom's lip curls at the emphasis on wife. With an irritated huff, Raoul gestures to the guards to secure the Phantom before he changes his mind and leaves him to hang at the earliest possible convenience. With that, he turns and strides out of the cell and towards the exit, trusting the policemen to bring the prisoner out behind him.

* * *

Christine stood waiting outside, watching for Raoul to return with _him_. Eventually, she spots him atop his horse, and she strains to see if someone is following him... There, that dreary, barred prison van. She watches it rumble along, wondering about the man inside. Has he changed since she last saw him? Was it hard for him, living outside of the opera house? She is so absorbed in her thoughts that she hardly notices Raoul when he gallops up, only acknowledging him when he shouts to her.

"Christine, get inside." He's off his horse in a second and ushering Christine inside before she can even consider arguing about it.

She holds back a little, taking another quick glance back at the approaching van before doing has her husband says and going inside. Once inside, she hurries towards the closest window, straining to see the wagon pull up outside the front doors. As it shudders to a stop, the policemen get down from the drivers seat and move around to the side-

"Vicomtess?" Christine turns, startled, to see Armela, her personal maid. "Your husband has requested that you be kept well away from the prisoner," she continues, offering a hand to lead her to safety.

"In a moment," Christine says quietly, turning back to the window. She needs to see him at least once... Armela sighs and joins her at the window. A second later, Christine sighs as well, but more out of frustration. The door to the wagon is open, and she can see that there is someone in front of it, but a policeman is blocking her view and she can't see him clearly. Then suddenly, the policeman moves, and she can get a good look at who she once called the Angel of Music.

He looks terrible. On the last night she saw him, when he was spitting threats and putting a noose around the man she loved, he was terrible and frightening. Now, he looks nearly as pathetic as when she went back to give him Raoul's ring. His clothes are bedraggled, his stringy gray hair is matted, and Christine doesn't miss the shackles on his wrists. The angry red disfigurement stands out against the rest of his face, and she suddenly wonders if it had ever seen the light of day before he fled the burning opera house. The policemen start leading him inside, and in turn, Armela takes Christine's arm and pulls gently, guiding her away from the window. "Come along, my lady."

As they journey through the house, the thought comes unbidden to Christine's mind: "Poor Angel." It comes with a mixed feeling of pity and guilt; Pity for the poor man who called himself the Opera Ghost, and guilt for still feeling pity for him even after all he's done, especially to Raoul and everyone else he hurt during his reign of terror. She loses herself in thought as Armela takes her away, deeper into the de Chagny estate.


End file.
